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“Plus some comfort item shit,” he said, reaching for the remote for the giant TV I had on the wall across from my bed.
In my personal opinion, TVs belonged in the bedroom where you could really stretch out and get comfortable.
I barely had time to watch mine anymore, but there was something comfortingly familiar about the way we fell into old patterns with Seeley clicking around the options, and me vetoing things I had no interest in.
“I need to talk to you about something that you’re not going to like,” he said after we’d decided on something, but before he pressed play.
“Great,” I grumbled, annoyed that the couple of moments where things were good and comfortable were clearly gone.
“I have a work meeting tonight. For a couple of hours,” he told me. “And I don’t want you here alone.”
“That’s ridic—“
“So, my buddy Eddie is going to come by,” he cut me off.
“I don’t even know Eddie.”
“If it makes you feel any better, he’s not actually a biker,” I told her. “He’s just a close friend of ours. And he is bringing a shitton of food he made for you specifically.”
“Wait… he cooked for me?” I asked, looking over at Seeley, trying not to notice how stupidly good-looking he was sitting up against my headboard like he belonged there.
“Yeah. Lots of comfort food type of shit. He makes the best food I’ve ever had,” he told me.
“Why would he cook for me, though?”
“Because he figured that you’re my people. And my people are his people. It’s just how Eddie’s mind works.”
I was… his people?
Did he really still think of me that way?
After all the years?
And all the hard feelings?
“I would never invite someone over here that I wasn’t sure you would be completely safe with,” he assured me.
“I know that,” I agreed, somewhat begrudgingly. As much as some part of me would like to hold onto negative feelings toward Seeley as a form of self-protection, I did know that he was a good man. He wouldn’t put me at any kind of risk.
“He will just bring you food and hang out until I get back to check on you,” he told me.
“I don’t need babysitters,” I insisted.
“Honey,” Seeley said, and I was unprepared for the way that endearment made my belly wobble. “No one is saying you need a babysitter. But you are hurt, and when someone is hurt, people like to help out, lend a hand. That’s all it is. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed. “So… his food is really that good?” I asked, feeling my stomach starting to grumble. What can I say? Hospital food isn’t great. And all I had in the house was salad. No one wanted a salad when they were feeling crummy.
“You have no fucking idea.”
And I didn’t.
But it wasn’t long before I did.
We’d put on an old favorite movie of ours, but both of us were wiped from the events of the past few days, crashing hard for a few hours until my throbbing arm and head had us both climbing out of bed to get me some more meds.
It was just maybe an hour after that when there was a knock at my door.
“Hurry up, man, or all this hard work is gonna end up on the ground,” a slightly accented voice called through the door, making Seeley rush over and pull it open.
